A Rise to Corruption
by Magma Red
Summary: Some people are born tyrants. Others are made, aka, corrupted. Power is what does it, and power is the one thing Zongazonga had far too much of. And he couldn't control it.


**AN-Well, I'm writing this merely from the idea. After all, everyone has a story that contributes to who they are, so what exactly is ZZ's story?**

* * *

A Rise to Corruption

Sunlight poured over a high castle wall into a courtyard. Flowers blossomed in the warm light, tree branches were heavy with thick, rich fruit, the light shining off the leaves, the air sweet with the smell of flowers and fruit. Smooth stone paths of slate winded through the gardens, the trees shady boughs warding off the sun. A man richly dressed in robes of scarlet and white trimmed with woven gold walked along the paths, a crown of solid gold encrusted with diamonds, rubies, sapphires and topaz, along with ivory and jade that made curling vines set into the gold, all of it shining brilliantly. With him walked guards, armed with spears and short swords, shields on their arms and their armor polished to a shine. Next to the man walked a little boy, about the age of three.

His hair was black and his eyes icy blue, giving him a strong resemblance to the crowned man. His tunic was the color of royal blue trimmed with scarlet, his black leather belt around his waist holding the tunic against him, while his trousers were black and leather boots came to his knees, they being shined and well made. On his head rested a circlet of silver and diamonds, sapphire veins wrapping around it.

He was a prince, the crowned man his father.

Only three years earlier, when he had been born, his mother had died of illness, leaving him with his father as his only family.

"Mordred?" The king asks, making the small boy look up at him, his round, black pupils dilating due to the light. The king's face was hidden with a neatly trimmed beard, and his eyes soft. "What do you think of the garden? Do you think it could use more flowers or fruit trees?"

"..." The prince says nothing, but blinks, then smiles. "More trees. You said Mother loved fruit." The king smiles, patting his son's head with affection.

"That she did." He says, smiling. "Derwen!"

"Yes sire!" A man's voice replies. A man wearing a russet green tunic trimmed in earth brown and evergreen trousers, comes rushing over, his brown hair bouncing. "How may I be of assistance?"

"Arrange for more fruit trees to be planted." The king tells him. "My son thinks it would make the garden nicer."

"I'll do it as soon as possible, my lord." The man says, bowing, then rushing off to do as the king had commanded, walking through the sunlight courtyard, the gardens tended by people dressed in greens and browns.

"Sire!" A man calls, making the king, the prince, and the guards look, seeing another man richly dressed in robes of blue and grey, his hair ash blonde, eyes the color of ashes, and a woman walking beside him wearing a dress of flowing purples, her eyes blue and hair a dark, rich brown.

"Ah, hello Emrys, Mora." The king says, turning to face them while the prince stood, looking at them.

"Hello, my lord." The man, Emrys, says. He then looks at the prince, smiling. "How are you this fine day, Prince Mordred?"

"Well." The prince answers, nodding.

"That's good." Emrys says, patting the prince's head.

"Tell me, what brings you here this beautiful morning?" The king asks as Ermys straightens, looking the king in the eye.

"You said you wished to meet my daughter. She's old enough now, so I have brought her." Emrys says, stepping aside. Standing half hidden behind the woman was a girl the same age as the prince, her hair making soft curls that shone like the king's golden crown, her hair coming to the small of her back and being a golden as the wheat that the farmers grew, and her big, beautiful eyes the same blue, blue, blue, color as the sky over head, her dress being the color of a sapphire - bringing out flecks of the same color in her eyes - trimmed with gold, a belt of woven gold tied around her waist and the long sleeves of her dress hiding one of her hands, while the other held onto the fabric of her mother's dress in a small fist. On her head rested a circlet as golden as her hair, studded with sapphires.

She was a very pretty little girl.

"Hello there." The king says, smiling at the small girl. "I am King Xervian. This is my son, Prince Mordred. Mordred, this is Emrys' and Mora's daughter, Genive."

"..." The prince blinks, Genive doing the same, then looking up at her mother, then burying her face against her, making the adults smile.

"She's a shy girl." Emrys says. "But she's a very affectionate little girl."

"..." The prince blinks again, then trots over to one of the gardens, looking at the flowers, then stooping down, picking a blue flower, and trotting back over. Genive looks at him, her face blank, the prince holding the flower out to her, then smiling.

"You're...very pretty!" He says, still smiling, and making the adults smile, some whispers of 'Isn't that just precious' rustling between them.

"..." Genive blinks, looking at the flower, accepting it, and tucking it behind her ear. The prince smiles more, then hugging her, making the adults smile more. Genive merely blinks, then smiles, returning the hug.

Later...

The adults sat beneath a dome made from marble, pillars of the same material holding it up, vines of ivy curling and growing up them. They lounged on finely carved, dark wooden furniture with cushions the colors of reds, blues, purples, and whites, speaking with each other while Mordred and Genive sat under a tree, Genive having a hassock to sit on, while Mordred sat on a tree root that was swelled big enough to serve as a chair.

"What's it like to have a mother?" Mordred asks, leaning back on his hands.

"...Well..." Genive says, her voice quiet but pretty. "...It's...difficult to describe."

"Father says my mother loved fruit." Mordred tells her. "He has a portrait of her in his bed chamber. She's very pretty."

"My father says my mother loves tarts." She replies.

"I love tarts." Mordred says, smiling. "I could eat them all day!"

"Me too!" Genive says, smiling as well, her pretty face lighting up.

"What's your favorite?" The little prince asks.

"Black berry custard." She replies.

"Wait here." The prince gets to his feet, and dashes off, leaving Genive to watch him, blinking with slight confusion. Entering the castle halls, Mordred dashes throughout them, then coming to the dining hall, the long, dark oak table having sunlight on it from where it came through the tall, narrow windows. He pushes open a wooden door, coming into a kitchen, the smells of cooking meat and fresh bread filling his nostrils. A chef hurries by, holding a platter of fresh bread, passing another who had a tray of goblets and a wine flask that was being taken to the adults in the court yard. Mordred weaves through them, then spotting a table that had an array of tarts on them, being made for the midday meal. He knew the chef that made them wouldn't let him so much as touch them until it was that time, so he instead looks around, then spotting what he was looking for. He goes around the room, grabbing a small tray then hides beneath the table closest to it, right where he was out of view.

"Now Uther," Mordred peeks out from his hiding spot, seeing the tart chef speaking to a servant. "the prince came in here, and he's going to be after these, and I don't want him eating them and spoiling his appetite. Understood?"

"Yes sir." Uther says, nodding. The chef nods, then turning to go continue cooking.

_Argh..._ Mordred thinks, scowling. _I can't get over there with him watching... _An idea forms in his head, making him step back, wait for the servant to pass by, then rolls forward, putting him right under the table, the servant not having seen him. Keeping to where the servant couldn't see him, the prince proceeds to reach up from under the table and grab the pastries from the table top, and put them on the tray, concealing it beneath a silver dome used to cover the food. After getting enough, he sits a waits for the servant to pass, then dashing out from under the table, accidently allowing his forehead to smack into the servants hand as it swung back, catching his attention.

"You!" He exclaims, Mordred then dashing off, then servant running after him. A pot handle catches Mordred's eye, and as he runs under it, he reaches up and pulls down on the handle, allowing grease to pour onto the ground, making the servant slip and fall, making the prince smile with triumph, escaping the room back into the courtyard. He strolls over to Genive, who looks up at him, he then holding out the silver platter with the tarts on them.

"For you." He says, smiling. Genive smiles as well, both of them then enjoying the treats, the adults having noticed.

"It's that precious?" Mora asks, Emrys and the king smiling.

"I can see it now." The king says. "My son asking for Genive's hand in marriage."

"Only if he grows into a good man." Emrys points out, a servant refilling his goblet with the red wine. "After all, even the most innocent toddler can become the most ruthless tyrant."

Seven years later...

A ten-year-old Mordred ran through a castle corridor, his jaw-length, layered hair bouncing and an excited smile on his face. He wore a tunic of white trimmed with blue, a hardened, black leather belt stitched with gold, dark blue trousers and polished black boots. He then skids to a stop, looking out a window into the courtyard. Duke Emrys and his wife Mora stood there, Genive with them. She wore a dark royal blue dress trimmed with gold (those colors were a big part of her wardrobe, considering it made her eyes pop and hair much more radiant), her hair was dressed with gold studded with sapphires, her skin was a beautiful swan white, making her look all the more lovely. Mordred climbs up into the window, then opening it and climbing down a tree into the court yard, jumping down to the ground, a few feet away from the adults and his friend.

"Ah! Prince Mordred!" Emrys says, delighted in seeing him.

"Hello Duke Emrys, Duchess Mora and Genive." Mordred says, bowing.

"By the islands, what have you been eating?" Mora asks, Mordred standing straight. "You've must have grown half a foot since we saw you only two weeks ago!"

Part of this was true, of course. Since his young age of three, the prince had grown much taller, now standing the height of five feet, a foot taller than Genive.

"I've been eating healthily, no need to worry." Prince Mordred assures her, smiling.

"So, how has your training coming?" Emrys asks.

"Quite well, thank you." Mordred answers. "My teachers say I'm a prodigy. I've already defeated Master Balee at least a score now with my blade, I'm able to shoot ten perfect bull's eyes - last time I checked that is - I ride my steed quite well, and I've made tremendous progress with my studies." He then smiles some more, looking at Genive. "How have your studies come along?"

"Quite well, thank you." She tells him, her voice light and pretty. "My instructor says that I can read faster than most, and mother has been teaching me how to work with cloth, so..." She pulls out a pure white handkerchief with ice blue thread around the edge and the Caliostenise symbol for 'M' on one of the corners. "I made you this."

"Thank you." Mordred says, accepting it.

Later...

"So how has your grandfather's health been?" Mordred asks Genive, who sat on a hassock while he sat on a tree root that served as a chair, the adults talking under one of the shade domes.

"Not too well, I'm afraid." Genive tells him. "If his fever doesn't break, he may pass away..."

"Don't worry." Mordred tells her. "Father's been doing research on something that should allow him to help with your grandfather's health."

"Really?" Genive asks, her eyes widening with amazement.

"Aye, that's what he told me." Mordred says, nodding. "He found some very old books stashed away. He mentions that they'll give him power unlike anyone's ever seen, like being able to control lightning and move object without touching them."

"..." Genive blinks. "Is...Is that allowed?"

"I'm not sure." Mordred tells her with a shrug. "But if it isn't, then I'm sure whatever greater powers exist will punish him for it."

"I hope not. Your Father is a kind man."

"Aye, that he is."

"Sire." Both of the youths look to see a page speaking to the king. "The Duke of the Desert has arrived."

"Ah, good, good." The king says, nodding. "Let him in."

"By the _islands_, no!" Mordred says, keeping his voice low.

"You read my thoughts." Genive says. A man and his wife enter the court yard, they being the Duke and Duchess, along with their oldest son, Gawain. His hair was a yellowish-brown and his eyes were a green-grey color. He wore a green tunic trimmed with red, brown breeches and leather boots, a dagger in its holder on his belt.

"Why do they have to bring him?" Mordred growls. The boy was a loud, obnoxious brat, who constantly declared he knew everything, was better than everyone, and was the biggest pest that roamed the Caliosteo Islands.

"Good morrow!" He says, spotting Genive and Mordred, running over to them.

"Here we go..." Genive sighs.

"Indeed." Mordred says, smiling. He then takes her hand, pulls her up, and dashes into the nearest door, Genive right behind him and a confused Gawain running after them. They dash through the corridors of the castle, sun coming through the windows, Gawain suddenly skidding to a stop in front of them, having taken a different route.

"Here you are!" He says. "Both of you ought to know better than to run from me, and think I wouldn't catch up!"

"Please, save your ranting for you servant." Mordred says, rolling his eyes.

"Just because you'll never as amazing as I, does _not_ give you the right to speak to me that way!"

"Watch your mouth! I'll be king one day, and I can give the power over the Island of the Desert to your brother!"

"Ha! You'll never do such a thing!"

"How are you assured?"

"I'll reign victorious over you, ere dueling!"

"Bah, you and your fantasies."

"Bah, to you too!"

"Well, at least I'm not stuck in that hideous vessel of yours." Mordred resorts, then hearing Genive stifle a laugh behind him.

"Well, I honestly don't see why one as pretty as Genive would stoop so low as to spend her time with you." Gawain says, then sidestepping the Prince, taking Genive's hand. "Wouldn't you rather spend time with a _real_ man, rather than a spoiled prince?"

"Leave her alone." Mordred says, yanking Gawain away.

"Why don't you let her choose the better, which is me?" He asks. "After all, it's obvious anyone would rather spend time with me!"

"...But...Prince Mordred is my friend." Genive says.

_Friend?_ Mordred wonders, a strange, small pain in his chest at the word. _Why does that bother me? It's never done that before..._

"Ah! Just a friend? Well, then, I guess you won't mind marring me!" Gawain says, taking her hand again, spinning around, to where he held her close.

"Leave her alone!" Mordred yells, pulling Genive away, and standing in front of her protectively, having pushed Gawain in the process, he stumbling back before regaining his footing.

"How dare you push me!" He yells, about to strike Mordred, only to have the Prince ram his shoulder into his gut, smashing him against the wall, then pin him to it with one hand, punching him across the face with the other, allowing him to fall to the ground.

"..." Gawain says nothing, but suddenly jumps to his feet, running off. "FAAAAAAAAATHEEEEEEEER!"

"Oh dear." Genive says.

"Aye, that's agreed." Mordred says. "AND, he won't tell the entire truth."

"What do we do? Is there somewhere we can hide?"

"Aye, I know a place." He says, taking her hand again. "Come quickly!"

Meanwhile in the courtyard...

"What's wrong, son?" Gawain's father asks, his hair brown and eyes green, wearing robes of dusty rose and a sandy color, his wife have blonde hair and green eyes as well, dressed with the same colors.

"The prince just struck me down!" He says. "You see, I was only trying to save Genive, who he was trying to force to kiss him!"

"WHAT?!" Emrys roars, outraged.

"I couldn't agree more." The king says.

Back with Mordred and Genive...

"Here we are." Mordred says, pushing open a wooden door. It lead to a circular room that had a pile of fresh straw, and a large window on the opposite side.

"He won't find us?" Genive asks.

"Well, not right away." Mordred tells her, shutting the door. "But I like to come up here and look at the view. I-I'm sorry I haven't showed it to you before."

"That's alright." Genive tells him with a small smile. She then goes to the window, looking out at the view of the ocean and the Island of the Jungle, her home. "It's a wonderful view."

"Aye." Mordred says, nodding and going to her side. "There are three towers, including this one. Each of them sight a different island, and if there were to be an uprising, watch men would be posted at each tower. If they see enemy ships coming, they drop a large stone out the window, which hits a metal object at the bottom, and it causes a loud ring to sound out. Each tower had a differently designed one, so that the troops know which side to go to."

"That's very creative." Genive says, looking down out the window, trying to spot the metal object.

"My father came up with it." He tells her. "Anyhow, I doubt he'll think to look up here for a time, so...what shall we do in the meantime?"

"...I'm not sure." Genive tells him. "Are you sure it's safe to sit there?"

"No. But that's not stopping me." Mordred tells her, he sitting in the window sill.

"Well, if you fall, I'm not sure how your father will react, Prince Mordred."

"..." He blinks. _That sounds rather formal...'Prince Mordred' she's called me that since we met, and it's start to bother me. No one else, just when she says it... _"Prince Mordred sounds a bit formal. Please, will you just call me Mordred?"

"..." She smiles. "Very well, Mordred."

"Thank you." He tells her, smiling as well.

"Mordred!" The king's voice rings out, making to two youths look at the door, thudding footsteps approaching.

"Your father!" Genive says, her voice quiet.

"Quickly! Hide!" Moving swiftly, they bury themselves under the pile of straw, out of vision when the door swings open, the king entering, mad.

"Mordred! I know you're in here!" He says, his voice raised, unable to see the prince and his friend in the stack of straw, Mordred holding her close to keep her calm. A few moments to silence pass, when the door shuts.

"...Alright. He's-"

"Still here!" The king yells, pulling back the cover of straw to see them.

"Father! Wait!" Mordred says, jumping to his feet.

"Oh, don't worry." The king says, calm. "I know the boy was lying. He's so predictable..."

"...You're not mad?"

"Mad? Well, I'm a bit sore for you hiding from me, but no, I'm not mad."

"Thank you father." Mordred says, relived.

"Aye, aye." The king says, nodding, the prince then helping Genive up. "Anyhow, what really happened?"

"Well, you see..." Mordred then goes on to explain what had really occurred, the king bursting out in laughter at the end of the story.

"Ah, rather protective of her, eh my son?" He asks with tease.

"Father! She's my friend!" He says, his face flushing slightly.

"Look at your blush! Aye, I can wait for the ceremony!"

"FAAATHER!"

"Mine king!" Emrys says, the door flying open, he then seeing Mordred. "There ye are!"

"Ah, let him alone." The king says, waving a hand dismissively. "Gawain lied. My boy here was protecting your daughter."

"...Ah...Ah, aye." The duke says, mulling over it some. "That sounds more like the truth."

"Aye." The king says, nodding. "Anyhow, I was just speaking to Mordred here about their future marriage."

"FATHER!"

"Ah! Aye, if this keeps up, we'll be relatives in few year, eh?" Emrys agrees.

"I can't wait to see the grandchildren." The king says with teasing glee.

"FAAATHER!" Mordred yells, his face flushed.

"Look at the boy's blush!" Emrys laughs, the prince the running out of the room, not wanting to hear anymore.

_ Agh, what's wrong with them?! _He thinks. _We're children and yet they insist of us marrying! Adults! And they say we need grow up!_

"Mordred!" Genive's voice calls, making the prince come to a stop, and looking back over his shoulder to see her rushing towards him. "Uhm...I want to thank you. For protecting me from Gawain."

"You're welcome." He says, bowing at the waist. "I don't want him to be near you if it makes you unhappy." He then straightens, looking at her.

"Thank you." She tells him, then kissing her cheek. "Goodbye." She rushes off, leaving Mordred standing there, his face flushed, and his hand over the spot she kissed him.

_...Her lips felt like rose petals..._

Two years later...

"Genive!" Mordred calls out, running to her and bowing. They stood in the court yard, she and her folk having only stepped inside it. "Good morrow my friend! I trust your trip here went well?"

"Indeed, thank you." She said, nodding as he straightened. He had grow even taller, still standing a foot above her, while she had grown as well. Most girls showed promise of beauty at her age, but she had blossomed, her lips full and red like a rose, her thick hair still in the pretty, golden curls and her petite build still lovely and slender.

"Hello, mine prince." Emrys says, his wife still at their home on the Island of the Jungle.

"Good day, Duke Emrys." Mordred says.

"Do you know where I might find your father? He called me here."

"Ah, yes. He is in his study, looking through the strange books. He's been rather absorbed in them as of late. Worry has its sickened clutch on me."

"Don't worry. He's looking through them to assist his kingdom." Emrys tells him with assurance. "I'll go to speak with him then." He turns, leaving.

"How have you been Genive?" Mordred asks. His hair was shorter now, but he loved the feeling when it brushed his cheek.

"Well. Mother is still ill from mourning my grandfather."

"I'm sorry to hear that, mine friend."

"Thank you, Mordred." She tells him. They went to where they always sat, beneath the tree that had the thick root that the prince used as a chair, while Genive sat on a hassock. "You said your father had been absorbed in the books lately, correct?"

"Aye, he even eats his meals in there. He studies from sun up to sun down. The room is littered with the books and numerous papers with notes on them."

"And his sleep?"

"Enough."

"Ah, the poor man."

"Aye. I've tried to get him to come out of the room, but he goes against my wishes. Even against Sir Timothy."

"His advisor? My, my. I hope he's not ill..."

"I agree on that statement, but...hm..."

"What troubles you?"

"Well, I've noticed that he's beginning to ignore simple things. The people on the Island of the Freeze have requested building supplies to repair bridges, but my father has yet to answer them. And it was near month ago."

"Aye...I've heard." Genive says, nodding with worry.

Meanwhile...

"Mine king?" Emrys asks, opening the door to a study, sun light coming through a window, pouring onto a desk littered with book messily stacked with papers with note scribbled on them sticking out and carpeting the floor as well. The king looks up, his face unkept and eyes having a tired, sunken look.

"Ah...Emrys, mine friend. Come, come." He says, waving his hand for him to enter. The Duke enters, shutting the door and stepping carefully, to avoid the papers scattering the floor.

"You have kept yourself busy."

"Aye. These books, they're fascinating. Such promising powers they assure..."

"Erm, my lord, pardon me, but your son has expressed worry for you, and the people feel you have been refusing to acknowledge them."

"...Not acknowledging them?" The king asks, his voice filling with anger as he stands, then turning to look at Emrys. "Is that how they feel?! I have slaved over these books in hope to better their lives, AND THEY SAY I HAVE IGNORED THEM?!"

"Sire, I mean no disrespect, but-"

"NO, not you! But the people do!" The king yells, kicking his chair out of his way. "They have belittled you to their messenger! Their envoy! If any of them DARE to question my rule, THEN DO NOT HESITATE TO LOP THEIR HEADS OFF,_ AM I CLEAR?!_"

"Please, calm yourself!" Emrys yells, shaking the kings shoulders.

"...Wha-what?" He asks, blinking.

"You were enraged. I have not know you to anger that easily. You need rest, my lord."

"Y-yes..." He says, idling staring as Emrys leads him from the room. "I'm sorry...Give them what they need...whatever it is..."

"Building supplies."

"Yes, that...Mordred, where...where is Mordred?" He asks, looking around.

"In the courtyard. Do you wish for me to fetch him?"

"Aye, aye..." He says, nodding.

"You there!" Emrys says, looking at a servant who was dusting a table, who looks back at him.

"Yes sir, me lord?"

"Go get the prince from the gardens. The king wishes to speak to him."

"Yes sir, me lord." The servant nods, rushing off.

"Tell...tell me, Emrys, how is your daughter?" The king asks, they entering his chambers.

"She is well." He tell him, helping him out of his robes. "She worried for her mother though."

"Ah, Mora..." The king nods, pulling a night robe on. "Yes, yes, Mora...Mora...How's her father?"

"He died near six months ago. You know that."

"I do?"

"Yes. I had a message sent."

"...Message?...Message...Message...Ah...Ah!...But it wasn't mentioned."

"What?"

"It said 'We need supplies'." The king says, nestling down into his bed, Emrys sitting in a chair next to it.

"...But, before that. It said that my father-in-law had passed."

"He did? Ah...I'm terribly sorry. He was a nice man." He says, then looking at the other side of the room, opposite of where Emrys sat. "How did he pass? Was it that rotting sickness? Oh, always a killer it is...poor man..."

"...S-sire, I'm here." Emrys says, putting his hand on the king's arm, making him turn his head to look at him.

"...When did you get there?"

"...I've been sitting here."

"You were there just a second ago..." The king answers, pointing at where he had been looking. "And what did you do to your flesh?"

"...Pardon?"

"Your flesh! When you stood there, you were like coal, and now here, you are the golden tan I remember!...What magic was that?"

"No magic sir." Emrys tells him. "Sire, you are seeing things. You must rest."

"Rest...Ah, yes, the rest of the books. I must look through them." The king says, sitting up.

"No, no." Emrys tells him, stopping him and making him lay back down. "REST. Sleep."

"Sleeeeep..." The king says.

"Father?" Mordred asks, entering the room.

"Mordred, Mordred! Come hither." The king says, waving his hand, the prince going to him.

"I'm here father." Mordred says, sitting on the other side of the bed.

"I need you to look over the kingdom while I study. Under...No, no. Forget that. You keep training though, understood?"

"...Y-yes sir?" Mordred asks, confused.

"Mine king, it would be a splendid thought to let you son watch the kingdom while-"

"YOU dare go against MY COMMAND?!" The king roars, looking at Emrys, Mordred noticing an eerie presence in the air, like a ghostly shadow, that sent a shiver down his spine and fear into the pit of his entrails. "I will not sit idle while you say such things, you-"

"Father!" Mordred yells, grabbing the kings hands, which were about to strangle Emrys.

"...What?" The king asks, blinking.

"..." The room is silent.

"...You were just agreeing with us that you need to sleep." Mordred tells his father.

"...I did?"

"Aye." Emrys agrees, puling the covers up higher on the king as the prince sets his father's arms down.

"Dream well, father." Mordred tells him.

"Ah, aye, aye...Goodnight. Sleep well." He shuts his eyes, the prince and duke exiting the room.

"I see good reason for your worry." Emrys tells the prince as they walk through a corridor. "He spoke to empty space like it was me and he had gaps in his memory..."

"Do you think he is going mad? Or...maybe contracted Wasting disease?" Mordred asks.

"I'm not sure...Possibly."

"Well, he's shown two things: Obsession with the books and seeing things. All of it traces back to the books, so I think it best we just get rid of them."

"We mustn't be hasty, my lord." Emrys tells him. "While I fear for him, we need think about how he will react."

"Yes sir..." Mordred sighs.

"Good. Now, I'm going to see to the repairs that need to be done. I'll come again soon to check on your father."

"Thank you." Mordred tells him, then heading back to the courtyard.

"How is he?" Genive asks as he returns.

"Not well, I fear. He's obsessed with the books and he was seeing and hearing non-existent things, as well as not being able to remember other items."

"Oh dear..." She replies, horrified.

"Don't worry." Mordred says, taking her hands, standing close to her. "We'll keep an eye on him. If things go too far, we'll destroy the books." Genive merely nods, then suddenly hugging him, her lovely face against his muscled chest.

"But I worry for the kingdom." She tells him. "What of the people? If this continues, your father may start to ignore them completely."

"Don't worry." Mordred tells her again, holding her close with one arm and stroking her golden curls with the other. "I will not let my father become a tyrant of evil." As he held her, the sweet scents of her hair drifted to his nostrils, making him close his eyes and hug her closer, his lips pressed against the top of her head. He felt his chest rise and fill with warmth, which seemed to pour straight from his heart, and into his veins, spreading it to every inch of his body. He had long since figured what it was, and since then he had always longed to tell her. "Genive..."

"Yes?" She asks, raising her head to look at him.

He kisses her.

One year later...

"Marriage?" Emrys asks. Mordred sat on a padded chair in his chambers, wearing a short sleeved tunic dyed dark blue and trimmed black, his trousers the same color and brown leather boots, he having grown another inch and his hair cut to where it covered his ears.

"Aye." He answers, nodding. "I wish her to be my bride. I know we are young, but I am willing to wait until you set the day when we may be wed. But, that does not mean I will be happy about it."

"Ah, aye. I felt the same when I was to marry Mora..." His features grow sad. His wife, Duchess Mora of the Jungle had passed away, weakened from grieving over her father.

"I'm sorry for your loss, and now that I am asking for the hand of your only surviving child, but I have loved her for years, and have courted her for a full year. You name when we may wed, and I will eagerly wait and make arrangements when the time draws near."

"..." Emrys blinks, then stretches his legs out, slouching in the chair slightly. "...Life has taken much from me. Genive is the only item I have been allowed to keep, and I have always felt joy when I see her face light up. She misses her mother dearly, and I wish for her to be happy once more." He smiles. "Aye, if she wishes it as well, then you may have her hand in marriage."

"Thank you!" Mordred says, standing up at once, a wide smile on his face. "I will go to her now!" And with that, he runs from the room, dashing down corridors, then coming to her room, and knocks on the door.

"You may enter." Her voice was sad, still missing her mother. The prince eases the door open, and steps into the room, Emrys following.

"Genive." Mordred says, she looking up at him from where she sat at the window. She wore black, with a dark purple sash at her waist, and a veil that covered her face. He goes to her, sitting down and pulling the veil back. "You needn't be sad anymore."

"Why?" She asks, Mordred then taking a breath.

"I have asked your father, and he says that so long as you are happy with it, I may ask for your hand in marriage."

"..." Her face lights up, as if she were the sun. "Yes! Yes, yes, yes!" She says, joy radiating from her voice as she hug him, he then standing, spinning in circles around the room, hugging her against him, they laughing with delight. "What day? When may we be wed?"

"Well..." Emrys says, the two youths looking at the man. "You're both in your thirteenth year...Mine prince, when you are the age of eighteen, you may be wed."

"Thank you!" Mordred says, still overjoyed, he and Genive then hugging.

"However," Emrys says, they looking back at him. "if both of you fall back with each other before the wedding, then it will be called off."

"FATHER!" Genive yells, the youth's faces getting red.

"Well, I have the right." Emrys says.

"But still!" Genive says, putting her hands over her eyes.

"It's not for lust that I wish to marry her..." Mordred says, his face red as well.

"Anyhow, both of you understand what I mean, and that's all that matters." Emrys tells them.

Later...

"Father?" Mordred asks, opening the door to the study, his father sitting at the desk, reading through a book. His eyes looked like they had sunk into the sockets, dark shadows around them. His face was drawn and tight, his cheeks hollow.

"Mordred? Ah, Mordred...Please, please. Sit..." His voice was quiet and distant, making Mordred only more worried.

"I brought you supper." Mordred says, coming in with a tray of food.

"Good, good..."

"And, I have good news."

"Ah, what's that?" The king asks, looking up from his book, which Mordred pushes away, setting the tray of food in front of him.

"Emrys has allowed for Genive and I to marry." He tells his father. "When I come to the age of eighteen, we will marry."

"..." The king says nothing, but nods, then looks at the tray of food, starting to eat.

One year later...

Mordred runs down a corridor, coming into the throne room.

"I SAID I DON'T CARE!" The king roars, looking down at a group of people from the Island of the Desert, who cowered in fear. "IF THE BEAMS IN THE MINES ARE UNSTABLE, THEN _YOU _CAN FIX THEM!"

"Father!" Mordred yells, rushing into the room. "They can't fix them without supplies! That's all they're asking for!"

"All they're asking for?!" The king yells, marching to his son, who had grown another half foot, to where he was a shadow shorter than him. "Supplies can give you power. THEY are asking for power."

"They're asking for supplies so that they can safely mine." Mordred resorts.

"IGNORANT BOY!" He roars. "YOU KNOW NOTHING THAT YOU SPEAK OF! YOU _WILL NOT_ COME IN HERE AND SPEAK OUT AGAINST ME!" He raises his hand to strike him, only to have Mordred jump back, dodging the attack.

"You know nothing! The king my father was would never act like this!"

"_**QUIET!**_" He draws back a fist, then throws it forward, causing a blast of fire to come from it, Mordred jumping to the ground to avoid it.

_What is this?!_ He thinks, pushing himself up, and looking at where the fire had struck the wall and a pillar, leaving black scorch marks. _Where-...ah...the books._

"Unless you wish for me to roast you live, do not cross me." The king growls, leaving the room.

"Mine prince, you are unharmed?!" One of the persons from the group asks, they rushing to him.

"Aye, I am unscathed...physically that is..." He says, they helping him stand. "I'll try to get him to give all of you the supplies you require."

"Thank you, your highness."

Later...

Mordred walks down a corridor, following his father, whose cloak billows behind.

"Ungrateful peasants..." The king mutters. "Always coming with complaints...never satisfied..."

"...Father?" the Prince asks.

"What?!" The king asks, irritated.

"..." He thinks about what to say. "People are worried for you. You've been short-tempered and acting a bit...irrational."

"IRRATIONAL?!" The king roars. "I am the KING! There is no authority over me, I AM authority!"

"Father, please, just-"

"NO! You're an ungrateful little whelp! It's your fault my loving wife died since she died giving birth to you and you've never shed a tear!"

"I never met her! And that could've happened to anyone! You can just-"

"I AM THE KING!" He roars, drawing his sword.

"FATHER!"

"Mordred!" Emrys yells, suddenly coming from a corridor, and blocking the sword blow with his own.

"Emrys you damned traitor!" The king yells. "I've had enough of you!" He then hits his palm against the man's chest, causing some kind of exploding boom, making Emrys and Mordred fly back, Emrys on top of the prince. They hit the floor, Emrys rolling a bit down the hall, then falling still.

"Emrys!" the prince yells, running to the man, and taking him in his arms. The blast had caused a hole to go straight through the man's chest, blood flowing like a river.

"...Mord...red..." Emrys chokes, blood coming from his mouth.

"Emrys...I'm sorry...I'm so sorry..." Mordred tells him, tears flowing from his eyes. "This is my fault..."

"No..." Emrys forces. His skin was draining of color from the rush of the blood coming out. "You...must...st-t-top...your father..."

"I will...I promise I will!" Mordred yells, grief coming over him, tears pouring from his eyes and dropping onto the dying man.

"And Ge-Ge-Genive..." Emrys says. "Make her...ha-a-appy...Proooootect...he-e-e-er..."

"I will...I will..."

"..." Emrys puts his shaking hand on Mordred's head. "I...I give y-you...my...blessing..."

"Thank you..." Mordred chokes, then taking the man's hand. "And thank you for being here. My father has left, and you...you stood in for him...Every time I think you, it will be as a friend, and a father."

"..." Emrys nods slowly, then relaxes, mist dulling his eyes, and his head turning away.

"Emrys..." Mordred says, sobbing. "_EEEEEEMRRRYSSSSS!" _He cries, then hugging the dead man against him, his tears soaking the blood-stained tunic. "Don't die! Please, PLEASE! _DON'T LEAVE US! __**EEEMRRYSSSSS!"**_

A few weeks later...

"That man that was once my father is nothing more than a thrice damned lowlife with a crown and evil powers!" Mordred yells, pacing back in forth, still grieving Emrys' death, his dreams replaying the man dying in his arms over and over. He was in the dungeon beneath the castle, speaking to the king's advisor, who sat in his cell. The king had gotten fed up with him, and had him imprisoned. He was an old man, but healthy. His hair was grey and gone from the top of his head, his beard covered his collar bones, his eyes were a light brown, his tunic crimson and breeches brown. "He was the only parent Genive had left and that thrice damned tyrant took his life without a second thought and does not grieve his for even a moment! Damn him, damn him, DAMN THAT MAN!"

"You speak with anger and sorrow." Timothy says, watching the prince from behind the bars.

"BECAUSE I AM BOTH!" Mordred roars, grabbing the bars and shaking them. "That damned man took my friend's life! He is no longer my father, Emrys became my father! And he has slain him!"

"Then why do you do aught?" Timothy asks.

"WHAT AM I TO DO?!"

"You can overthrow your father. You are strong than you think, and triple what he knows. Youth is on your side, and with your reasons, there is no possible way you can be defeated for his self centered purposes. Go, and find a way to topple that man who you loathe."

"..." Mordred runs out of the dungeon, up stairwell and down corridors, bursting into his father's study. He had finished with the books, the study being idle. He grabs a book and tears it open, reading the strange text and looking through the notes, spending several days locked in the room, eating anything a servant brought him, and barely resting. His birthday came and passed, he not even caring, but staying focused on the books that sat in front of him.

A week later...

King Xervian sat on his throne, staring off into space, when the doors to the throne room suddenly burst open with such force that they tore from the hinges, Prince Mordred coming in, anger edged onto his face. He wore a chest plate and white tunic, bracers on his arms and legs, battle skirt, sword at his hip and shield on his arm, whilst a helmet adorned his head.

"KING XERVIAN!" He yells, stopping at the middle of the room. "I, Prince Mordred of the Caliosteo Islands hereby challenge you to a duel for the throne, and the power over the Kingdom of Caliosteo! You _will_ fight me, and only one shall live!"

"What is this?!" The king demands, standing. "You think you can over throw me?!"

"I _KNOW _I CAN!" Mordred roars. "You have become vile and corrupted! A damned tyrant to be abhorred and scorned for the rest of time! I will not stand for your action any longer! YOU WILL DIE IN BATTLE!"

"..." The king narrows his eyes, tears his cloak from his shoulders, and draws his sword. "You are a ninny. This fight will be your last."

"Only death awaits a tyrant."

"..."

Silence still the air for a brief second before both of the men let out booming battle cries, they charging at one another, the c lash of their swords ringing through the air, the people gathered outside listening to the battle waging. They blasted each other with fire, shocked each other with lightning and threw each other against the wall. They bashed each other, cut, slashed and knocked each other down, but neither gave in, neither held back, it was as if all chaos had broken loose as the battle destroyed the room around they, and yet they gave no head, for the only thing that matter was the death of the other to either save or slaughter the people of the islands, and hold dominant power over them, and this was a battle worth fighting for.

"What makes you so sure?!" The king yells, blocking Mordred's strike with his sword. "You're just a boy!"

"..." Mordred draws a breath. "A boy does not watch his friend and father figure be killed by his friend, or hold him in his arms while he dies! I am a man!" He roars, using a force blast to knock the king across the room, slamming into the now-ruined throne.

"Aye, a man fights battles." The king says, standing, then attacking with a blast of fire, with Mordred deflects. "But he knows how to fight one!" He roars, swiping at his son with his sword, which Mordred blocks with his battered shield.

"I WILL DEFEAT YOU, YOU DAMNED MAN!" Mordred roars. "You have neglected your kingdom and your only son, you have turned against anyone who speaks out against you, and have killed innocent people! I will not stand for it! You have killed, now it is time for you to feel it!" He causes an eruption of fire, the explosion throwing them to opposite ends of the room. They lay still, then force themselves up, stare each other down with stares of loathing and extreme hate, they charging at each other again.

The king raises his sword, it cutting through the air down towards his son, who blocks it with his shield, only to have lightning then blast through the metallic items, electrocuting him, making him roar with pain that make the people listening cringe, and the king smile evilly.

"A boy cannot handle pain." He says, his voice mocking. Mordred stands, shrieking with pain as the blue light crackles around his limbs, then suddenly goes silent, smiling with triumph.

"But a man can outsmart his opponent!" He says, then sending the lightning back into the king, the power tenfold so that the man roars with pain and agony, his muscles strained from the terrible pain, then going silent as Mordred releases the spell, the king falling to his knees, and the prince grabbing his chest, where a hole had burned through. The king looks up at him, terror in his eyes.

"Death claims you." Mordred says.

The king shrieks with pain, light beginning to appear around him and come from his eyes and mouth, his wail of death becoming more and more agonizing, to where it make the people listening hair stand on end and shudder with terror, while the prince had a blank, unforgiving look on his face, a gale wind bringing to blow from the king a circle formed around him, then an explosion that sent a solid pillar of light through the ceiling, causing rocks and stone to fall, the light blinding, and the prince still standing despite the blast, and then the light contracting back on its self into a condensed sphere, which then explodes, sending a shockwave of light out, the only thing left of the tyrant king, was a pile of ruined, bloody and scorched clothes, and his crown.

"..." Silence settled like snow, the prince - now king - sheathing his sword and lowering his hand, looking at the pile of cloths. He couldn't help but think of the gleeful moments of his life that had been spent with the king.

But that was the past.

He turns, walking out of the room. He was exhausted and bloody, his cloths torn, shield battered beyond repair, sword chipped and near breaking, but it was over.

"People of the Caliosteo Islands," He says, looking at the people who had been listening. "The man that once sat on your throne is dead. I am your new leader, King Mordred."

They cheered, and messengers were sent to the islands to relay the information.

Two years later...

He had grown more. Now standing at seven feet, he towered above everyone else, and he eagerly awaited the coming day when he could wed Genive, who had been supportive of him since he had first met, and still loved him. He wore a different crown on his head, his tunic was finely made and his cloak the same. Sir Timothy stood next to him, he his advisor.

"Sire..." A farmer says, coming forward from the crowd from the Island of the Jungle. "We request that taxes be lowered. We have barely enough money to buy supplies that we need."

"His reason is good. Grant it." Timothy says.

"..." Mordred blinks lazily. "...I'd rather not. Take them away."

"But, sire!" The farmer says, only to have guard grab his upper arms and haul him away.

"And that's all my appointments." Mordred says, standing. "I'll be going now."

"..." Timothy watch him go from the room. "...We are doomed to repeat ourselves, tenfold."

Meanwhile...

"Genive." Mordred says, the lovely woman looking at him. "How are you?"

"Well. And you?"

"I'm always well in your presence." He says, taking her in his arms.

"..." She stands, not reacting.

"Are you alright?" Mordred asks her. "You've been unresponsive as of late."

"...Mine king..." She starts. "...I think we should cancel the wedding."

"...What?" He asks, his smile vanishing.

"Well, you..." She takes a breath. "...You've changed." She stands there, looking up at him, looking at his eyes which begin to grow sad. His pupils were like a reptiles, and his teeth had grown longer and sharper. She turns, then beginning to walk away, when Mordred suddenly falls to his knees, clutching her skirt.

"DON'T LEAVE ME!" He cries. "Please! First my father abandoned me, then Emrys died and I never had a mother! You're all I have! You're the only meaning in my life! Please! PLEASE DON'T LEAVE ME! _PLEASE!_" He sobs, Genive having stumbled back onto a bench, sitting there, and watching as Mordred cried.

"..." Gently, she takes his head. "...I will never leave you...Mordred."

"..." He says nothing, but hugs her, still sobbing.

Later...

Genive sat in her room, looking at the goblet of wine that sat in front of her. It was three days till the wedding, and thoughts raced through her mind.

He just wasn't the same.

He had become cruel towards the people. He neglected them, and used his magic to terrorize them. The power had corrupted him, and he was evil.

He was no longer him.

She stands, goes to the desk, dips the quill in an ink well, and begins to write on the paper in front of her. She finishes, then ties it to a rose he had given her. It was sky blue with gold at the edges, and she tied it with a black ribbon. Going to the window, she kisses it, then holds her arms out the window, letting it fall through her fingers to the ground. Turning, then going to a chair, she sits, and take the goblet in her hands, drinking the wine down, and then sitting back.

She closed her eyes, thinking of her mother and father.

And of the little prince holding out a blue flower to her in a sun filled court yard.

Meanwhile...

"And the quotas for the crystal mines need to be increased. They're valuable to my magic." Mordred says, walking through the court yard with a page, some guards, and Timothy. "Oh, and-"

He stops, seeing a rose on the ground with a black ribbon holding a note to it.

"GENIVE!" He yells, panic erupting in him. He runs like a madman into the castle, then to her chambers and throws the door open, seeing her sitting in a chair. "Genive! Genive, my love, speak to me!" He says, running to her and taking her in his arms. The guards appear, one with the rose, the page going to get a doctor and Timothy calmly walking over to the goblet, and sniffing the rim.

"...Poison." He says.

"Sire." The guard with the rose says, handing it to Mordred, who takes it, unties the note and reads it.

_To King Mordred of the Caliosteo Islands,_

_ I'm sorry. I can't marry you. You've turned into an evil man, you neglect your kingdom and abuse your powers to terrorize the citizens. You've become your father, only ten times worse._

_ You're not the sweet Mordred I love._

_Sincerely,_

_Genive Morasdaughter, of the Island of the Jungle._

"...No..." Mordred says, tears starting stream from his eyes. "_NOOOO!" _He roars, throwing the note aside and taking Genive's dead body in his arms, hugging her tightly. "_DON'T LEAVE ME!"_

Weeks later...

"Genive...Genive my sweet, my darling beloved...Genive..." Modred sobs, curled in the corner of his chambers, clutching a bottle of wine, while empty ones were scattered about the room. "Why...why did you do it? Genive...!" A servant shakily opens the door, making him throw the wine bottle at him. "GET OUT OF MY SIGHT YOU DAMNED CREATURE!" He yells, then going back to his sobbing. After a few minutes, Timothy opens the door, no scared of the sobbing man in the corner.

"...No amount of tears will bring her back." He says.

"_I DON'T CARE FOR YOU!"_ Mordred roars, looking at the man with a wild, insane look in his eyes, his pupils slits. "I bet you were the one that got the poison to her didn't you?! You killed her! It was your idea! GUARDS! TAKE THIS MAN TO BE EXICUTED!" Two guards come, taking the man by his upper arms.

"I do not fear my death." Timothy says as they lead him out. "It is better to die than to let a tyrant control me."

"...Genive..." Mordred whimpers, rocking himself.

One week later...

A servant stood outside the king's chambers, shaking and scared. The king had locked himself away for over a week now, no one daring to even go near the corridor his room was in. He had been sent to make sure the king was still alive, his trembling arm reaching up to knock on the door, when it swung open.

The king stood there, his black hair now cut short and wearing robes of dark, dark, dark royal purple with golden trim, a cloak blacker than the darkest night and some strange object on his head of the same purple shade with golden trim. His eyes were hard with an intense stare in them, the pupils thin like razors. He was thinner from not eating, but it caused a hollowness in his cheeks that made the bones of his skull predominate, giving him a look that would kill.

"...What do you want, _maggot?_" He hisses.

"..." The servant falls face down on the floor in a bow. "I-I-I w-was sent t-to check on y-you, sire!"

"...Hm..." The king hums, sounding bored. "Well, since you're hear, I have something for you to do." He says, grabbing the servant by his hair and lifting him up. "Spread word that the king Mordred is no more. _She _said I was not him, so I am not. I am Zongazonga, King of the Caliosteo Islands."

The servant ran to do so.

Countless years later...

He couldn't believe it.

He started at the boy in front of him.

...He was _perfect._

His build was strong and muscled, yet slender and lithe. His hair was thick and shining, though, dark grey was an odd color, but still fetching nonetheless. His eyes were as blue and as beautiful as sapphires, that sparked with adventure and eagerness.

He was powerful.

_Such a perfect vessel._

__**oooOOOooo**

He stared down at the boy, who stared back at him with a face hardened with determination, utter shock in him that this boy, this _mortal_ had just defeated him in a battle that he had used his most powerful spell in.

Words rang through his head...

_"I'm telling you to step down for you own good, you tyrant. There is a boy with eyes of sapphire that will come here, and he will defeat you, and you will not live. Now, you can leave this body and go back to the chest that you were confined to, or you can stay in there, and see your doom. Either way, you will not win."_

How could this have happened?

The question rang through his mind like how sound rings from a bell and her yelled out the question, unable to comprehend such a thing when he felt pain begin to creep over his skull.

His life flashed before his eyes.

And at the end, he saw Genive sitting in the courtyard, the sun shining down on her, her lovely face radiant with a smile.

_I love you, my sweet Genive._

And for the last time, he shattered.


End file.
